The Cruel Sea
by CaroH
Summary: The Musketeers cross swords with a crew of privateers. Will they survive the encounter?
1. Chapter 1

**The Cruel Sea**

 **Chapter One**

The streets of Le Havre were washed clean by the torrential downpour. The rain had also soaked four bedraggled Musketeers, leaving them shivering and miserable. Their horses plodded onwards, heads down with weariness. Had it not been for the weather they would have made camp an hour ago and finished their journey in the morning. As it was, all they could think about was a warm room and a good bottle of wine. Dark clouds and an early dusk made the road even more treacherous so it was a relief when they began to see the lights of the town glimmering ahead of them.

Les Poisson more than lived up to its name being infused with a strong odour of fish. Not that any of the men cared. They shed their sodden cloaks and headed for the table closest to the fire. Soon they were settled with two bottles of wine and bowls of fish stew accompanied by freshly baked bread.

Aramis shuddered as water dripped from the ends of his hair and ran down his back. "Remind me. Why did we think it was a good idea to volunteer for this mission?"

Three pairs of eyes turned to Athos, who grimaced in response. "I thought we could all do with some time out of the city." It wasn't the entire truth. With the Queen's belly growing daily more noticeable, and Aramis having a tendency to look at her like a love sick puppy, it had been a question of self-preservation. Richelieu had taken to watching the Musketeer speculatively as well, which was grating on Athos' nerves. Aramis didn't appear to have noticed either his dangerous behavior or the Cardinal's interest.

"Why did the King send Musketeers and not the Red Guard? It's not as if catching privateers is our responsibility," d'Artagnan asked. The colour was gradually returning to his face as he warmed up.

"He is worried about his relationship with England, I imagine," Athos said. "I heard that their harvest was bad for the second year in a row and that has led to a lot of unrest amongst the people. The King was answering a plea from his sister to lend them aid."

"I could understand attackin' ships if they were carryin' somethin' valuable," Porthos said. "But these were filled with grain."

Athos withstood Aramis' scrutiny while d'Artagnan poured more wine and Porthos mopped up the last of his stew with a hunk of bread.

"I think there is something you have omitted to tell us," Aramis said mildly.

Athos looked away, buying himself some time by taking a drink from his glass. Then he sighed. "The ships were carrying more than grain. The King also sent arms and ammunition. The English King is unpopular and fears an uprising. Parliament is against him and his grip on the country has weakened. He wants to be prepared in case the worst happens."

"How much has been stolen?" Aramis asked.

"Enough to start a small war according to Treville."

"Louis is worried that similar trouble could cross the channel to France?" d'Artagnan's brow was furrowed as he considered the implications.

"He's too arrogant to believe that is possible," Athos said. "It was Treville who saw the danger and that's why he volunteered us."

"What makes him believe the privateers are operating out of Le Havre?" Aramis leaned forward intently. They had been given only the briefest of details but he suspected that the Captain had confided in the man he regarded as his lieutenant.

Athos looked around before speaking in a low voice. "All the merchant ships that have been attacked started their journey here. That means someone in this town is passing information about their schedules and routes. Also, there are a number of small bays along the coast near here where cargo could be offloaded in relative secrecy. Tomorrow we will split up. D'Artagnan and I will make enquiries in town while you and Porthos reconnoiter the coastline."

"What happens when we find them?" Porthos asked. "I can't see the four of us bein' enough to take on a whole crew of pirates."

"You underestimate our abilities, my dear Porthos."

Porthos threw a grin in Aramis' direction before turning sober. "Much though I'd like to think we could handle it we need to be realistic."

"We'll send to Paris for reinforcements. Our mission is to locate the pirates, find out where their base is, not engage them." Athos drained his glass. "I will go and rent us a couple of rooms. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow."

TMTMTM

They breakfasted at daybreak. The rain which had plagued them the day before had stopped during the night and the sky was clear as the sun started to rise. After parting company Athos and d'Artagnan strolled along the quay to the harbor master's office.

"You think he's the one who is passing on the information?" d'Artagnan asked.

"Doubtful. That would be too obvious. No, I suspect his is innocent but he might be able to point us towards others with similar knowledge."

They entered the small building to find a thin, baldheaded man standing behind the counter. He peered at them over the rims of his glasses.

"What can I do for you gentlemen?"

Athos touched his pauldron. "We are King's Musketeers. You will have heard about the ships that were robbed of their cargoes."

"Yes. Yes. A bad business."

"They all sailed from here."

"That's true. I know all the Captains and many of the crew members." The harbor master shook his head. "It's a sad day when ships return bereft of their cargo and with dead seamen on board."

"How many have been killed?" d'Artagnan asked.

"Let me think. Two on the first ship and three on each of the others. Whoever's responsible has no respect for life."

"Who would know when the ships were to sail and their routes?"

"Their sailing schedules weren't a secret. Their routes, now, that's a different matter. The sea between here and England is unpredictable and routes vary depending upon the weather. No Captain knows for certain what path he'll take until he's out on the water."

Athos frowned in frustration. "Is there a favoured inn when the Captains are in port?"

"La Belle Helene is where most of them stay. It's a step above most of the others. Turn left when you leave here and it's two streets back from the docks."

"Thank you for your assistance, Monsieur." Athos led the way out of the building. "Not as useful as I had hoped."

"We go to the inn?"

"Yes."

The quay was crowded with sailors, longshoremen and a couple of prostitutes who looked at Athos and d'Artagnan with interest. Athos ignored them although d'Artagnan smiled at them as he walked past. They called out an invitation to which he didn't respond. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Athos scowling at him.

"What?" he asked. "It costs nothing to be polite."

"You're just encouraging them," Athos groused. "You've clearly been spending too much time with Aramis."

D'Artagnan grinned and hurried his steps to keep up with Athos' brisk stride. La Belle Helene was a substantial two storey building just far enough away from the docks to be in a more genteel neighbourhood. Voices still carried on the breeze but they were muted and not as raucous as they seemed at closer quarters. Although it was still early the door stood open and inviting.

When they stepped inside they found some of the tables occupied by well-dressed men, some of whom wore the distinctive dark blue uniforms of sea captains. They were clearly just finishing their breakfasts prior to embarking upon the day. The man tending the bar looked in their direction and smiled in welcome.

"Breakfast is almost over but I'm sure I can find something for you if you're hungry."

"Our thanks but we have already eaten." Athos removed his hat and laid it on the wooden bar. "We will take two tankards of ale though."

"What are Musketeers doing in these parts?" the man asked as he deftly poured their ale.

"Oh, we're just passing through."

D'Artagnan shot a quick sideways glance at his mentor.

"We have to meet a courier here and then we'll be on our way," Athos continued, lying smoothly. "Of course he may be delayed. Do you happen to have any rooms to rent?"

"I've one coming empty. Captain Deschamps over their sails with the evening tide." He gestured towards one of the tables.

"Then, we would like to rent it from you for a couple of days." Athos pulled out several of coins and held them out.

They were taken quickly and disappeared into the man's apron pocket. "Happy to be of service to two of the King's elite guard."

D'Artagnan picked up his tankard and sipped the ale. "This is good."

"Only the best for my customers. My name is Benoit and I'm the proprietor of this establishment."

"Athos. This is d'Artagnan."

They finished their ale in companionable conversation before Athos retrieved his hat and settled it on his head. They parted company with Benoit and returned to the street. D'Artagnan caught Athos' arm.

"You didn't ask him any questions."

"No. I think subtlety is the key here. Did you notice the bottles of rum and brandy? They're expensive which means he is either making a very good living or he's involved in smuggling. My guess is it's the latter. His ale, as you noted, is also of very good quality and I would wager his wine is too. He caters to those with the most money and supplies their needs accordingly."

"That doesn't mean he's the one passing on information."

"It doesn't mean he is innocent either. He isn't going to talk to us but he might talk to Porthos if he doesn't know he's a Musketeer. And, I have an idea about Aramis too. Come on, we've things to arrange."

Tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**The Cruel Sea**

 **Chapter Two**

Even though the sun was shining the road was still coated in thick, sticky mud. Aramis and Porthos walked their horses carefully along the cliff path, rounding the headland and gaining a spectacular view of the coastline. Aramis stopped and shaded his eyes from the sun, peering ahead of them.

"There are numerous small bays," he said. "The privateers could be using any one of them."

"If we've even come in the right direction."

They had chosen to leave the town on an eastwards course, having ascertained that the cliffs were more formidable to the west. If the cargo was being off-loaded around Le Havre the men would be looking for an easy path from the beach, not a perilous climb.

They rode on until they reached the first inlet where they dismounted. Aramis sighed. "The tide has washed the sand clean. Even if they were here we won't see any sign of them."

Porthos gazed out to see, frowning and straining his eyes. "Do you see that?" he pointed ahead and to his right. "Is that a ship?"

"Wait here." Aramis trudged through the sand back to his horse and fetched his telescope. Once he had rejoined Porthos he raised it to his eye. "It's hard to tell, there's so many dark clouds gathering on the horizon." He handed it over to Porthos.

"I don't see it now."

"A trick of the light perhaps."

"Maybe." Porthos didn't sound convinced. He closed the telescope and turned away from the water. "Come on. We've a lot of ground to cover. I wonder if Athos and d'Artagnan are havin' better luck."

They continued their slow journey, stopping at each cove with the same lack of success. At noon they stopped for a quick meal of bread and cheese, washed down with spring water.

"It's very peaceful out here," Aramis said, settling back against a tree trunk. "We haven't seen anyone all morning."

"It's not quiet out there," Porthos watched the fishing fleet which was sailing back towards Le Havre. "It's a hard life they live. I wouldn't like to rely on the sea for my livelihood.

"You don't like boats?"

"Never been on one and don't have any urge to change that."

"You've never sailed?"

Porthos shook his head and bit into the crusty bread.

"I grew up near the sea. It's exhilarating to be propelled by the force of the wind and to challenge the water for supremacy." Aramis eyes had become unfocussed as he thought back to his childhood.

"I'll stick to the land, thank you. I don't fancy the idea of drownin'"

"You can't swim?"

"Not much call for it in the Court of Miracles and, after I joined the army, there never seemed to be an opportunity to learn."

"You must let me teach you."

"Nah. I'm happy as I am."

They packed away the remains of their meal and got back on the road. Shortly after that they saw a cottage in the distance. As they got closer they could see a neat vegetable garden at the front and a yard with half a dozen chickens pecking at the ground. A cow and a horse were in a fenced field to the rear of the property. A young girl, who looked to be about ten was working in the garden as they approached. She looked up and watched them warily but, to her credit, she didn't bolt.

"Good afternoon, Mademoiselle." Aramis lifted his hat and executed a flawless bow. "Are your parents at home."

"Maman is in the house. Papa is working in the grain field."

The sound of their voices must have penetrated the cottage because a woman emerged carrying a baby. She looked tired, careworn and deeply suspicious.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" she asked as she reached her daughter. "It's not often we see strangers out here. Are you lost?"

"We're staying in Le Havre and decided to ride out given the beauty of the day." Aramis smiled reassuringly.

"It won't stay beautiful for long." She gestured towards the water where the storm clouds were drifting closer to the land. "If I were you I'd turn round now and you might just save yourselves a soaking."

"We greatly appreciate the advice, Madame. However, before we go, can you tell us if you have seen any unusual activity around these parts recently."

Her eyes drifted away from his direct gaze. "We keep ourselves to ourselves. It don't do no good to stick our noses in where they aren't wanted."

"So, you have seen something?" Aramis pressed.

"There's no need to be afraid," Porthos added.

"I'm not afraid." Her face and her words were at odds as she pulled her daughter closer. The baby in her arms began to cry.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" The shouted words came from a middle-aged man who emerged from behind the house. He was brandishing a hoe as if it was a weapon.

"We're just passing the time of day with your good lady," Aramis said. "Surely there's no harm in that."

"It's time you were on your way," the man said, standing belligerently in front of his family. "You shouldn't be bothering honest folk like us."

Aramis could sympathise with his distrust. They had left their pauldrons at the inn, not wanting anyone to know they were Musketeers. All he would be seeing were two heavily armed strangers. He gestured to Porthos to turn his horse back towards Le Havre. "Thank you for the warning about the weather," he said.

They picked up the pace on the return journey, trotting side by side. "Did you get the impression they were scared of somethin'" Porthos asked once they were out of earshot.

"That's the way it looked to me. They're probably being paid to close their curtains at night and ignore any unusual sounds."

"Either that or they've been threatened."

Aramis nodded. "I'd say we've found our landing site, or at least the general area."

"Where d'you think they're storin' their plunder?"

"Probably back in Le Havre. There are no other towns around here that are big enough."

"I wonder how they knew about the weapons?"

"Sailors talk. It's not easy to keep anything secret in a port town."

They reached the outskirts of the town before the rain started. Porthos cursed and pulled his cloak closer around his body. Fortunately, it was only a light shower but the look of the sky convinced them that it wouldn't stay that way for long. In addition to the rain the wind had picked up again and Aramis clamped a hand on his hat to save it from being blown away. They stabled their horses and were just entering the inn when a bolt of lightning shot across the sky followed by the growl of thunder.

They found Athos and d'Artagnan in the bar. Aramis noted that there were several parcels stacked by Athos' chair and raised an enquiring eyebrow. Athos waved them towards the unoccupied chairs before beckoning to a serving girl.

"Wine and food," he said.

"Did you have a profitable day?" Aramis asked.

"Possibly. You?"

"We think we have found the stretch of coastline where the privateers have been unloading their cargo."

"Interesting. We will have to set up surveillance. The next ship bound for England leaves in two days." Athos sat back as the serving girl set a tray on the table. There were platters of ham and vegetables accompanied by a bottle of red wine and four goblets.

"Athos has a plan," d'Artagnan said as he picked up the bottle and began to pour. "You're not going to like it," he added with a sly grin.

"We never like Athos' plans," Porthos said amiably.

"We were directed to an inn where the sea captain's stay. D'Artagnan and I have taken a room there. We think the owner might be in league with those we seek but he's hardly likely to admit that to two Musketeers."

"That makes sense. What do you have in mind?" Aramis asked.

"We thought a two pronged attack might be productive." Athos took a drink of his wine and screwed up his face. "This is vile."

"I'm sure the wine at La Belle Hellene will be of better quality," d'Artagnan said.

"La Belle Hellene?" Aramis tried the wine before pushing his goblet away with a shudder.

"The inn I was telling you about. We need to draw the innkeeper out and persuade him to send a message to the privateers."

"How're we goin' to do that?"

"It's simple really. Aramis is going to pose as a messenger from Paris looking for a ship to take the next cargo to England and you," he paused and his lips turned up into the faintest of smiles. "You are going to pretend to be a pirate."

There was a stunned silence as Aramis and Porthos exchanged incredulous glances.

"Told you that you weren't going to like it," d'Artagnan said with indecent enthusiasm.

"How can I persuade anyone I'm a pirate when I don't know one end of a ship from another?" Porthos asked.

"I can teach you. I sailed often enough in my youth." Athos was looking inordinately proud of himself.

"What exactly do you hope to gain by these deceptions?" Aramis asked.

"You will talk to the innkeeper about the difficulty you are having finding a ship to take the cargo. He has connections with many of the sea captains so I'm sure he can put you in touch with someone. You will make the arrangements for the cargo to be loaded and for the ship to set sail. If I'm right, Monsieur Benoit will pass that information to his contact."

"I can hardly turn up dressed like this." Aramis gestured to his leather uniform.

"Which is precisely why I've bought you these." Athos picked up the packages and set them in front of Aramis on the table.

He untied the string on the top one and folded the paper back to show him a glimpse of a black doublet.

"The others contain trousers and a cloak. Take care of them. They cost almost all the money Treville gave us."

"What about me?" Porthos asked.

Athos looked him up and down. "You're fine just as you are. You will play the role of a privateer captain who lost his ship and is looking for a new berth. Hopefully that will pique our quarry's interest and they will make contact with you."

"What if they find out I'm not who I say I am?"

"That would be very unfortunate because we can't send anyone to back you up."

"You're just full of encouragement, aren't you?" Porthos grumbled.

"Come now, Porthos. You know how much you like a challenge."

"We'd better just hope he doesn't get seasick," Aramis said gloomily. "That would be a dead giveaway."

Tbc


	3. Chapter 3

**The Cruel Sea**

 **Chapter Three**

Aramis looked at his reflection in the mirror. The black breeches were tucked into his new boots. His white shirt peeked through the slashed sleeves of his equally dark doublet. He swung the short cape with the pale blue lining around his shoulders and fastened the chain.

"How do I look?" he asked.

"Very pretty," Porthos answered with a smirk.

"That wasn't what I meant," Aramis protested. "Do I look like an envoy from the King?"

"Undoubtedly," Athos responded.

Aramis settled his hat on his head before smoothing the ends of his moustache. "I hope this deception works. If the innkeeper isn't involved, we could have lost our opportunity to find the privateers before the next ship leaves."

"We will be following other lines of enquiry at the same time," Athos reassured him.

"Still, it is a gamble."

"A calculated risk," Athos said. "Porthos, you stay here for now. D'Artagnan and I will spend the night at La Belle Helene and will return in the morning to begin your education. Aramis, give us thirty minutes to get back to the inn before you follow us."

After Athos and d'Artagnan had left Aramis sat on the edge of the bed. "I don't like the idea of you going in without back-up."

"They might not take the bait. And, even if they do, Athos and d'Artagnan will be close at hand."

"Not if you're offshore on the privateer's vessel."

"Then I guess I'll have to give a convincin' performance so they don't throw me overboard."

"Don't joke about something like that." Aramis' stomach flipped over every time he thought about Porthos alone and in the hands of the pirates.

"I've been in dangerous situations before, you know. I can handle myself."

"Not even you can fight off an entire crew if they figure out that you're a spy."

"Stop worryin'. I'll be fine."

Aramis detected a note of doubt in Porthos' voice and knew that his friend was just an anxious as he was. "You don't have to go through with this. We can find another way."

Porthos sat beside him and rested his hand gently on Aramis' shoulder. "We're runnin' out of time. D'you really want to see another ship bein' attacked? More sailors will lose their lives and we'll be no closer to findin' those responsible."

"I know. It's just…a feeling." Aramis respected his gut instincts which had saved him on more than one occasion.

Porthos squeezed Aramis' shoulder and dropped his hand. "We swore to give our lives in service to the crown. I hope it doesn't come to that but, if it does, I'm prepared."

"I know."

"Come on." Porthos stood up. "Let's get a drink before you leave. I've got a mighty thirst this evenin'."

Knowing that further objections would be pointless Aramis followed Porthos from the room. Despite his seeming acquiescence, though, he couldn't shake the feeling that something very bad was going to happen.

TMTMTM

Aramis entered the tap room at La Belle Helene and looked around. It was doing a good business, with the majority of the clientele being well dressed and seemingly prosperous. He caught a glimpse of Athos and d'Artagnan sitting at a table in the centre of the room. The man tending the bar was of middling height with neatly cut brown hair and a pleasant open expression. Aramis recognised him from Athos' description and knew that he was looking at Monsieur Benoit.

He soaked up the atmosphere for a few moments before easing his way through the crowd of patrons, heading in the direction of the bar. When he reached it he put a coin down on the wood and beckoned to the innkeeper. "A bottle of your best wine," he said.

"At once, Monsieur. If you would like to find a table, I can have the girl bring it over to you."

Aramis shook his head. "I have been riding for most of the day. It is a relief to stretch cramped muscles."

Benoit brought a bottle and goblet over to him and poured the wine. "Where have you travelled from?"

"Paris."

The innkeeper left to fulfill an order but quickly returned. "What's your business in Le Havre?"

"I am on the King's business." He could see Benoit appraising the quality of his clothes and couldn't hide a small smile. "I have been sent to secure a ship for the next cargo of grain going to England. That is no easy feat, given the attacks. All the captains we approached have refused us. The King thought I might have more success talking to them face to face."

"It's no surprise that they're wary." Benoit leaned forward and lowered his voice. "The privateers have hijacked every shipment. Someone must be feeding them information."

"Yet the King must fulfill his obligations to his sister, the Queen of England. He is very angry and that never bodes well."

"I might be able to assist you. I know many of the captains personally. They do me the honour of staying here when they're in port. When will the grain arrive?"

"In a week. There is already one shipment due to leave in two days. We can only pray that it makes the journey safely." He sampled the wine which was of a quality to rival that served at the palace. "My compliments, Monsieur. The wine is excellent."

Benoit smiled broadly. "I have good suppliers."

"I would appreciate any help you can provide." Aramis put two gold coins on the counter. It was almost the last of their money, leaving them close to destitute.

The innkeeper eyed them and licked his lips. "The King is generous," he said as he picked them up.

"He is most generous to those who do him a great service. When do you think you will have word for me?"

"Come back at noon tomorrow. I guarantee I will have found you a ship."

Aramis drained his glass before smiling warmly. "I can see that I have been fortunate to find a man who is so well connected."

"You can trust me."

And that, thought Aramis, was the crux of the matter. Was Benoit a good man who was simply eager to help, or was he in league with the privateers? He had said and done nothing suspicious and appeared to be genuine. Once again Aramis hoped that Athos was right and that they weren't chasing down a phantom lead.

TMTMTM

"The ship they are using is likely a Brigantine," Athos said, unrolling the parchment containing a ship's schematics. "It is fast and maneuverable, which would explain how it managed to catch up with the heavier Galleys. As you can see it has two masts but also somewhere between eight and ten oars on each side. That gives it greater freedom of movement."

Porthos leaned forward eagerly and traced the outline of the ship with his finger.

"The stern is the rear of the ship," Athos continued. "The bow is the front. Port is the left side and starboard is the right. It will be square rigged on the foremast here." He pointed to the forward of the two masts. "The mainmast will be rigged with a fore-and-aft mainsail and square topsails."

"And it is carrying cannon," d'Artagnan observed.

"Yes. Probably as many as eight pieces."

"No-one's said anything about them firin' cannon." Porthos said.

"The threat would be enough. I wouldn't be surprised if they fired a shot or two across the bow as a warning. Brigantines have substantial cargo space which explains how they were able to take the majority of the cargos. Although I'm sure it was only the weapons they were after grain is marketable as well."

"How many men?" Porthos asked.

Athos cleared his throat uncomfortably. "There could be between seventy-five and a hundred."

D'Artagnan looked at him in shock. "That many? What chance would one man have against a crew that size?"

"I'm not suggesting that Porthos is going to fight them. We just need to know where the ship is anchored. After that, it will be up to the Captains of the royal warships. You have to understand, d'Artagnan that most privateers started life as sailors in a royal navy. There could be any number of reasons for them to turn to crime. After all, sailing is the only craft they know so if a ship is decommissioned the crew have to find some other way to earn a living."

"Why would they be interested in me?" Porthos asked.

"Privateers are always on the lookout for skilled men. They spend most of their lives at sea and that can be perilous. They could lose men to foul weather, disease, starvation, even desertion. Not everyone who ends up on a pirate ship is there voluntarily. It isn't a glamorous way of life, despite what popular fiction would have you believe."

"You almost sound as if you admire them," d'Artagnan said.

Athos looked at him, honestly shocked. "I believe in the rule of law. These men operate outside the law and I have no respect for that."

"Can we get back to my lesson?" Porthos asked.

"Of course. Here is the rudder. That is what is used to steer the ship. It is connected to the ship's wheel by cables."

"What are you two goin' to be doin' while I'm cozyin' up with the pirates?"

"I would like to interview the captains of the ships that were attacked. They might have valuable information about the vessel and the number of men they encountered. Also I want to hire someone to watch the area of the coast you and Aramis identified. It would be useful to know where they're storing the stolen goods."

Athos spent the next two hours instructing Porthos in common nautical terms. His friend absorbed all the information and spent some considerable time studying the layout of the ship.

At the end of it Porthos sat back and flexed his cramped back and neck muscles. "There's more to this pirate lark than I expected."

"Sailing a vessel this size is complicated," Athos conceded.

"How is Porthos supposed to get off the ship, assuming they take the bait?"

"They will be carrying rowboats. That's the only way they could have got the cargo to shore. Wait until night, overpower the watch and steal one of them."

"You make it sound easy." Porthos grinned at him.

"It won't be and there's a task you need to perform before you leave. The ship's log will record the coordinates of the anchorage. Without that information the warships won't be able to find them."

"Let me guess. The log will be in the Captain's cabin," Porthos said.

The enormity of what he was asking Porthos to do weighed heavily on Athos. He knew he was putting his brother in great peril but they had a job to do and Porthos was best suited to the role. He could only hope that his plan had a positive outcome because he didn't know how he would live with himself if Porthos fell.

Thc


	4. Chapter 4

**The Cruel Sea**

 **Chapter Four**

By the time Aramis returned from his latest meeting with Monsieur Benoit, Porthos was as ready as he was ever going to be. Aramis unclasped his cloak and threw it onto the bed before looking round at the three expectant faces.

"Our friendly innkeeper has found a ship for our fictitious cargo," he said. "So far he has said and done nothing to justify our suspicions."

"He would hardly give himself away to you," Athos responded.

"Then what is the purpose of this deception?"

"Few people are aware of this supposed shipment. If Porthos succeeds in making contact with the privateers, and they know about it, that will indicate Benoit is not as innocent as he appears."

Aramis looked at him skeptically. "Why are you so sure he's involved?"

"Instinct."

"He has a good business," d'Artagnan said. "Why would he jeopardize it?"

"If I am right, his business is built on the back of piracy."

They all knew it was hopeless trying to convince Athos that he might be wrong. Once he made up his mind about something he would stubbornly cling to his belief unless hard facts proved he was mistaken.

With a resigned sigh Aramis sat beside his discarded cloak. "How is Porthos' education coming along?"

"I know a damn sight more about boats than I did before. More than I ever wanted to know if truth were told." Porthos was busy fastening his bandana around his head. He'd removed his pauldron and was bristling with weapons.

"He has proved to be an able student," Athos remarked.

"At least he knows the front of a ship from the back now," d'Artagnan added cheekily. He ducked out of the way when Porthos tried to swat him.

Although Aramis gave a brief smile he was still overburdened by anxiety. "I remain opposed to this."

"Your objection has been noted, but there is too much at stake for us to be cautious. The entire relationship between France and England is at risk if we fail in our mission."

"I know," Aramis said grudgingly. "I just wish there was another way."

"As do we all." Athos squeezed Aramis' shoulder reassuringly. "I have decided that d'Artagnan and I will sail with the next shipment. If nothing else, we might be able to avert any senseless violence."

"I'm coming too," Aramis said. "I won't be left here to worry about you all." He could see Athos weighing his words and reaching the correct conclusion that he would not be swayed.

"As you wish."

Aramis stood up and walked over to Porthos, offering his hand. "God go with you, my friend."

"You just keep prayin' for me and I'll be fine." Porthos clasped his hand and pulled him in for a brief hug.

As Porthos left the room, Aramis hoped that it wasn't the last time he would see his brother alive.

TMTMTM

Porthos stood in the doorway leading to the inn, scowling ferociously. The talk at the tables nearest the door faltered as their occupants watched him furtively. His scowl gradually changed to a smile which he suspected was more disturbing. He swept his hat off and gave a mocking bow to the men sitting closest to him. Not one of them would meet his eye. Satisfied that he had made an impression, he sauntered up to the bar where he quickly identified Benoit.

"Brandy," he called, slapping some coins down on the wood.

The bar tender hurried over, snagged a bottle from the shelf and poured a generous measure. "We don't hold with trouble here."

Porthos grinned before downing his drink. "Another. Worried that I'm not your usual class of clientele?" he asked.

Much to his surprise the bar tender didn't back away. "Just issuing a friendly warning."

"I'm not lookin' for trouble. I am lookin' for a berth and word is you're the man to talk to."

"There are plenty of ships in port. You'd do better talking to their captains."

Porthos leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Not the kind of ships I had in mind."

A flush appeared on the bar tender's neck. "Then you've come to the wrong place." He started to move away before Porthos reached out and caught his sleeve.

"I had my own ship once. A beauty she was. She was sunk by excise men off the coast of Ireland and I ended up in Waterford jail. That's a hell hole you never want to visit."

Benoit licked his lips nervously. "How did you get out?"

"Bribed the jailor. The little runt was eager to supplement his pathetic pay. He was no challenge at all," Porthos said scornfully. "Got out of Ireland as quickly as I could and came here to seek new ventures."

"If the watch hears you talking like this you'll find yourself back in jail."

"It was a grand life," Porthos continued wistfully, ignoring Benoit's warning.

"What is it you want?"

"Adventure. Excitement. Money. I hear there's a privateer that's been stealin' royal cargos. Now I ask myself why they would be doin' that if the ships are carryin' nothin' but grain? Seems to me there must be somethin' else and I want a piece of it."

"You're talking treason and it'll get you hanged sooner than make your fortune."

"I don't see you rushin' off to alert the authorities."

"A man's business is his own, but I would watch who you say such things to. Not everyone is as open-minded. Here." Benoit pushed the brandy towards Porthos. "Keep the bottle."

Porthos poured another glass and raised it in salute. "You're a true gentleman." Satisfied that he had dangled the bait he settled in for an evening of heavy drinking.

TMTMTM

D'Artagnan pressed his shoulder more firmly against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest, resigned to a boring evening. He had chosen a spot from which he could see the front door of the inn and the door leading from what he assumed was the kitchen. It was growing dark, making it harder to see although the lamps along the main street had now been lit. By his reckoning Porthos had been inside for a couple of hours and, during that time, he'd noticed nothing untoward. He stamped his feet to restore their circulation. Although it blessedly wasn't raining, the night air had become chilly.

A blossoming light heralded the opening of the kitchen door. A man stepped outside. More from his stature than his face, which was in shadow, d'Artagnan was able to identify him as Benoit. The inn keeper looked around and then beckoned to a pair of urchins who were hanging around outside looking for alms. He bent down to speak to them. The light from the kitchen was sufficient to show that he handed something over but d'Artagnan couldn't tell what it was. The boys took off at a run in the opposite direction from where he stood hidden. He hesitated, torn between wanting to go after them and staying to watch out for Porthos. In the end he knew he couldn't abandon his brother.

The hours passed slowly. Even with his cloak pulled tightly around him the cold had numbed his hands and feet and was insidiously worming its way inside his clothes. The streets had quietened down although they were never deserted. He silently urged Porthos to leave his warm surroundings so that he could go back to the inn and thaw out. As if in answer to that thought Porthos stepped out into the street. He was walking unsteadily, one hand on the wall of the inn to keep him moving in approximately a straight line. D'Artagnan, who knew to his cost what Porthos' capacity was, couldn't tell if his friend truly was drunk or just putting on a show.

Incongruously for the time of night a delivery wagon began to make its slow way down the street. It passed d'Artagnan's hiding place and his gaze fell on two dark cloaked men sitting on the bench and another two men squatting in the rear of the wagon. His hand instinctively went to his sword before falling away in frustration. He couldn't interfere unless it looked like Porthos was in danger of his life. He edged out into the street, keeping well away from the lamps. The wagon had passed Porthos before stopping. All four men disembarked and he could see now that they were carrying clubs. He drew his sword, keeping it parallel to his leg and moved closer.

The men had reached Porthos now and there was a brief exchange of words. He saw Porthos lashing out with his right arm before stumbling and falling to one knee. There was the sound of laughter from his assailants. A club rose and fell, catching Porthos on the back of the head. D'Artagnan bit his lip to keep from crying out and watched in anguish as the four men heaved Porthos' inert body into the cart. He waited until it was moving again before hastening after it. The least he could do was find out where they were taking his brother.

Tbc


	5. Chapter 5

**The Cruel Sea**

 **Chapter Five**

Porthos woke up with a headache which centered on the back of his skull. He rolled over from his back to his side and raised a hand to probe the tender area. His fingers skimmed gently over the bump before dropping away to rest on the covers cocooning his body. He was, to his immense surprise, lying in a comfortable bed. He sat up slowly, adjusting to the slight spinning sensation the move provoked. He found that he was fully clothed except for his boots which he found at the side of the bed. His weapons lay on a chair close to the window. It wasn't at all what he'd expected when he had been accosted in the street. When he opened the drapes he found that it was day and that he was in a building overlooking the eastern end of the harbor. He strapped on his sword belt, checked his pistols and walked to the door. It was unlocked and unguarded.

There was a short hallway leading to a flight of stairs. He descended silently, arriving at the entrance to a room. Inside was a table laden with food and a man who looked up at his approach. Porthos could recognise another predator when he saw one and this man radiated danger although he was presently smiling and looking inordinately happy.

"You're awake. Come. Eat."

Thoroughly confused Porthos entered the room and took a seat at the table. His host poured him a cup of ale and gestured around the plentiful dishes.

"Help yourself."

Porthos took a drink while his mind adjusted to the fact that he didn't appear to be a prisoner. "Who are you? Why was I brought here?"

"My name is Josiah Carlyle."

Although the man was speaking French he had a distinct accent. That coupled with the name convinced Porthos that he was dealing with an Englishman.

"You still haven't explained why your men hit me over the head and brought me here." He folded his arms across his chest and glared.

"They asked you politely to come with them but, when you attacked, they had to take drastic measures."

"I don't go along with men who waylay me in the street after dark."

"A pity. You could have saved yourself a headache." Josiah continued to watch him equably. "Word reached me that you were looking for me. I was intrigued enough to issue an invitation."

"You're the one who's been attackin' the ships." Porthos leaned forward eagerly, his sore head forgotten.

"I'm the Captain of the Black Swan."

"Where's your ship now?"

"She's anchored at sea. Tonight she will come closer to shore to pick me up. Then, tomorrow, we go hunting." Josiah picked up a slice of bread and some cheese, laying them on his plate. "Eat, then tell me your story. If I like what I hear you can come with me. If not…" He shrugged and the grin was back as he left the threat hanging in the air.

TMTMTM

Athos and d'Artagnan breakfasted at the inn. They had spent an uneasy night worrying about Porthos after d'Artagnan had returned to report that their brother had been kidnapped off the street and taken to a house close to the edge of town. Aramis, who was bordering on being distraught, was there now, keeping an eye on the residence.

"Do you think he's alright?" d'Artagnan asked, still struggling with the fact that he had stood by and done nothing.

"If they were going to kill him they'd have taken him to an alley, slit his throat and then dumped his body. The fact that they took him to a house is encouraging." Athos was doing his best to sound positive even though his stomach was cramping with fear for his friend's safety.

"I hope you're right," d'Artagnan said gloomily.

"If I thought he was in danger we would be storming the house and getting him out."

That seemed to cheer the young man up. "It looks like your plan is working."

"So it seems. Come, we have an appointment with the Captain of the Cassard. He is due to leave at high tide tomorrow morning."

They walked at a leisurely pace down to the harbor and quickly identified the ship. There was a lot of activity around it as the longshoremen laboured to load the cargo. Athos waited for a lull before ascending the gangplank and walking over to where a small group of officers were gathered around the stern.

"Captain Surcouf? I am Athos of the King's Musketeers and this is d'Artagnan."

The middle-aged man who stepped forward offered Athos his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, gentlemen. Please join me in my cabin."

The cabin was a large room at the rear of the ship with a bank of windows looking out across the harbor. The Captain rounded a heavy wooden desk, sat and indicated that Athos and d'Artagnan should take the seats on the opposite side. Athos looked at the Captain's desk with interest. It was covered in charts weighed down by a brass sextant.

"Your message indicated that you were intending to sail with us. Do you believe we will be attacked?"

"Four out of the five ships that have sailed so far have been."

"You are asking me to risk my crew. What assurances can you give me? I'll tell you now that I'm having second thoughts about this voyage."

"You concern is understandable, Captain. The King has sent us here to identify the privateer's ship and find where they are unloading their plunder." Athos looked the Captain straight in the eye, his tone steely. "I'm afraid I must insist that you leave as planned."

"You have no authority on this ship." An angry flush had crept up the Captain's neck.

"I'm afraid that we do. Our authority comes from the King. But, there is no reason why we should be at odds with one another. If the pirates do attack I advise you not to retaliate. Let them take the cargo."

"And what will you be doing?"

"Taking stock of the ship and its crew." He didn't add that they would also be looking out for Porthos. He didn't want anyone outside the three of them knowing that they had planted a spy in the pirates' ranks. "We will come aboard this evening."

"This is still my ship."

"Indeed it is and we will not interfere with the running of it. However, if we are attacked you and your crew will follow my orders." Athos stood up. "We will endeavor to ensure that no harm comes to your men."

"That doesn't exactly fill me with confidence."

"Nonetheless it is the best I can offer." He gave a shallow bow. "Until later."

Once they were back on deck d'Artagnan exhaled loudly. "That could have gone better."

"He's afraid, and rightly so but he could not be allowed to renege on his responsibilities."

They left the ship and stood on the quay. Sea gulls circling overhead called to each other mournfully.

"What now?" d'Artagnan asked.

"You return to the inn. I will go and check in with Aramis."

They parted company and Athos set off towards the house that Porthos had been taken to. As he got close he looked around for his colleague, finally spotting him lurking in an alley. "Any movement?" he asked.

"A couple of rough looking men have come and gone. There has been no sign of Porthos."

He laid a comforting hand on the marksman's shoulder. "I'm sure he is fine."

"How can you say that?" Aramis turned on him, his eyes blazing. "We have no idea what is going on in there. They could be torturing him for information or he could be…dead."

"I hardly think they would torture him in a residential neighourhood."

Either Athos' rational words or his calm demeanor seemed to get through to Aramis and he gave a sheepish smile. "I suppose you are right. It's just hard to wait without knowing that he is safe."

"I know and, believe me, I am as worried as you are but Porthos can take care of himself. We have to trust in that."

"Wait." Aramis caught his arm. "Something is happening."

A youth was leading two horses round to the front of the house. Moments later the front door opened and a dark haired man they didn't recognise stepped out. He was followed closely by Porthos. They watched as the two men mounted and rode away.

Aramis slumped back against the wall, all the tension draining out of his body. "He is free and armed."

"And now we must let him go. Even if we had our horses here it would be too dangerous to follow them. We must do nothing to arouse suspicion."

Porthos and his companion rounded a corner and disappeared from view. The game was on.

Tbc


	6. Chapter 6

**The Cruel Sea**

 **Chapter Six**

Athos was on deck when the Captain gave the order for the mooring lines to be released. It was a relief to be free of the small cabin where he, Aramis and d'Artagnan had spent an uneasy night. He could smell fish and taste the salt in the air. Although it was only just after dawn the quay was already bustling and it looked like they weren't the only ship sailing on the tide.

There was a curt command and then the rowers bent their backs to the task of propelling the ship away from its berth so that it could catch the wind in its sails. The life of a sailor was a harsh one, braving the winds and the tides while living in cramped insanitary conditions. Athos could feel admiration for them at the same time as sensing their fear. They would all have heard about the attacks and each one of them was on edge.

"It's going to be a rough crossing."

He turned when he heard Aramis' voice and found his two friends standing behind him. He glanced upwards then at the sails which were billowing in the strong wind. "I'm afraid you're right. Maybe it will put the privateers off. It's no easy thing to board a ship that's tossing on the waves."

They cleared the harbor mouth and the rowers shipped their oars as the vessel surged ahead. When the ship lurched Athos took a firmer grip on the rail. A spray of water rose in the air, droplets scattering across his face. He wiped them away only for them to be replaced immediately. Dark clouds filled the horizon, promising rain to add to their misery. He noticed that d'Artagnan had gone a little pale.

"Perhaps you should go below," Athos suggested.

D'Artagnan swallowed convulsively and shook his head. "I think it would be worse in a confined space."

"I hope Porthos is alright," Aramis said, frowning with worry. "This isn't exactly an easy introduction to the art of sailing."

"He's got a stomach of iron," Athos said in an effort to comfort his friend. "Remember that time we got sick from eating tainted meat? He was the only one of us who didn't succumb."

"That's true." Aramis' face cleared. "It'll take more than rough seas to bring him low."

The ship continued to buck its way over the tempestuous sea. Much to Athos' surprise d'Artagnan held onto the contents of his stomach and had even managed to relax his grip of the rail a little. He began to enjoy himself. It was an exhilarating feeling to be battling the elements and holding their own. After a time, the wind swung round to the west and the sea began to calm. There was a noticeable slackening in their speed. The clouds, which had been edging closer began to scud away and there was a glimmer of sunlight off to the east.

There was something else to the east. Athos walked unsteadily across to the other side of the ship, staggering as he reached the rail. "Another ship," he said when his friends joined him.

"The sea lanes between France and England are busy at this time of year. It may be nothing sinister," Aramis said, peering through narrowed eyes.

"Nonetheless we should make ready." Athos led the way back to their cabin to fetch their weapons. He buckled on his sword belt and loaded his two pistols. "Remember, we want to avoid bloodshed if we can. Our job is to keep the peace."

They returned to the deck to find the other vessel had closed with them. It was running against the wind which meant that they must be using their oars. Athos climbed up to the bridge and attracted the Captain's attention.

"The wind is pushing us towards her," he observed.

"Aye, but if I lower the sails we'll be dead in the water."

"Can you bring the ship around?"

"We'd be battling the wind and I need more sea room than we've got to make that manoeuver."

Athos accepted the assessment and continued to watch the other ship. "She's easily twice our size."

There was a muffled boom before a plume of water splashed up about a hundred yards in front of them. Aramis and d'Artagnan joined him on the bridge as a second boom sounded.

"I think that answers the question about whether or not she's friendly," Aramis said.

Athos turned to the Captain. "Lower your sails," he said.

"The wind's shifting direction again. We should be able to outrun her."

"You can't outrun her cannon."

The third cannonball hit the water no more than fifty yards ahead of them.

"If you don't surrender the next one is likely to hit you amidships," Athos warned. "They won't be trying to sink you. After all they want the cargo. But think of the damage they could do to ship and men. Are you willing to risk it?"

The Captain's glare was unfriendly but he gave the order and sailors rushed to obey. The privateer ship didn't fire again. It closed the distance between them and was skillfully brought alongside. Athos could see that the rigging was full of men, all aiming muskets at the crew of the merchant ship. Two pirates vaulted the rails before turning to catch sturdy coils of rope which they used to lash the ships together. A steady stream of pirates scrambled across and formed a human barrier between the two vessels. Athos looked around anxiously, hoping for a glimpse of Porthos.

"Come on." Athos returned to the main deck, pushing his way through the sailors until he was face to face with the line of pirates.

A tall man swaggered forward and came to a halt in front of Athos. It was the same man they had seen with Porthos the previous day and it appeared that he was the Captain of the privateers.

"You three don't look like sailors," he said.

Athos rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. "We're King's musketeers," he said, his tone betraying no concern for their plight.

"Is that so? Well, gentlemen, I'll ask you to surrender your weapons."

Athos, who was now flanked by his brothers looked at the pirate scornfully. "I think not."

"You're outnumbered and outgunned. I don't think that you have a choice."

"There's always a choice."

There was movement behind the pirate and Porthos walked forward. His gaze swept dispassionately over the three musketeers. "Looks like you've caught the attention of the King, Captain. These are his elite guard."

"He should have sent more." The Captain said dismissively. He looked over his shoulder. "Get the cargo," he ordered.

Athos stepped forward. "This cargo is bound for the King of England. We can't let you take it."

"Your loyalty does you credit, but look around you. I've only to give the order and your body will be riddled with bullets. I advise you to choose your next move very carefully."

Athos moved his hand away from his sword, glancing quickly from side to side to ensure that his brothers had followed his lead. "It appears you have us at a disadvantage," he said wryly.

"I want your weapons on the deck. Now! If you try my patience any further, I will order my men to start killing the crew."

Although Athos bristled at the command he unhooked his pistols and laid them carefully on the deck then began to unbuckle his sword belt. There was a jingle of metal as his sword slid to the ground followed by Aramis' and d'Artagnan's.

They stood on the deck a long time while the pirates stripped the holds of the cargo of weapons and gunpowder. Porthos continued to wait quietly at the Captain's shoulder, only occasionally allowing his gaze to meet those of his friends. Athos spent the time assessing the strength of the pirate crew and memorizing the characteristics of the ship so that he would recognise it again. He also studied the pirate Captain. The man was a couple of inches taller than him, with long dark straight hair and striking blue eyes. His face, weathered by the sun and sea, gave no hint of his age but Athos would be surprised if he was more than forty. If he could control his crew as effortlessly as it seemed, he must be a ruthless son of a bitch. Not a man to be underestimated.

The constant flow of boxes became a trickle and then ended. Athos saw that the pirates were starting to return to their ship. The tension that had invaded his body began to dissipate. There had been no casualties and that, to his mind, spelled success. He glanced briefly at Porthos who looked quite at home. Then he frowned when he saw an older man glowering at Porthos' back. It appeared his brother had made at least one enemy among the crew.

The Captain's chilly blue gaze swept around the ship. "Thank you all for your cooperation." He gave a mocking bow before gesturing for three of his men to come forward. "It occurs to me that Musketeers might have some value so I must invite you to join me on my ship."

Athos' nimble brain considered that from all angles. They were not in a position to protest but this could be turned to their advantage. He saw Porthos opening his mouth to speak and gave an infinitesimal shake of the head to stop him. He neither objected nor struggled when his arm was taken in a bruising grip and he was manhandled towards the rail.

"Over you go," the pirate said to him.

He swallowed hard when he saw the sea churning between the two vessels and felt the rise and fall of the deck. The distance couldn't have been more than twelve inches but it looked like a chasm. With extreme care he climbed onto the rail and leapt. He landed on his hands and knees on the deck of the pirate's ship and took a moment to catch his breath before rising to his feet. Aramis and d'Artagnan landed next to him, each looking as shaken as he felt. Both his arms were seized and he was held still until all the pirates had crossed from the merchant vessel. The ropes holding them together were severed and the ships began to drift apart.

"Chain them and put them in the hold. Post a guard," the Captain ordered.

As the ship got underway they were hustled down a flight of stairs into a section of the hold which was segregated from the main area where the cargo was stored. Their wrists and ankles were chained and they were pushed to the ground.

"This wasn't part of the plan," Aramis said, once they were left alone. He tugged on his chains and grimaced.

"What do you think they're going to do with us?" asked d'Artagnan.

"Try to ransom us back to the King I expect," said Athos. "Not that he'll care about our safety."

"And when they find we are of no value?" Aramis shuffled backwards until his back rested against the bulkhead.

"Then they'll kill us."

"That's a comforting thought."

"What about Porthos?" d'Artagnan asked. "Surely he could free us."

"Which still leaves us on a ship full of pirates," Aramis said gloomily. "It also compromises his position." He looked thoughtfully at Athos. "I recognize that look. That's your 'I have a suicidal plan' look."

The corners of Athos' mouth tilted upwards. "How would you like to blow this ship out of the water?"

"With us on board?" Aramis said.

"Not exactly."

"Oh, I can't wait to hear this. Tell us, oh esteemed leader, how we get off before it goes boom."

Athos' smile increased, and then he told them.

Tbc


	7. Chapter 7

**The Cruel Sea**

 **Chapter Seven**

The celebrations lasted a long time. Porthos stuck close to Josiah who prowled the deck, a bottle of rum in his hand. Through it all he fretted about the fate of his friends. He had been caught off-guard to see them on the merchant ship and his stomach had plummeted when they were taken prisoner. Although he longed to check on them he knew that he couldn't afford to show too much interest as it might provoke unwelcome attention. He was already under unfriendly scrutiny from the first mate, Billy Robbins, who was jealous of his favoured position at Josiah's side. He caught the man glowering at him and responded with a bright smile. It only made Billy's expression turn sourer.

Porthos had quickly come to admire the Captain for his iron grip on the ship's crew. The men were disciplined and respectful, going about their business in a professional manner. He didn't think that any Navy ship would be better run. Although they had been let off the leash to an extent after their successful raid, none of them abused the privilege. Drink was consumed in moderation and each man continued to attend to his duties.

From the position of the sun Porthos knew that they were travelling north, which meant that they weren't returning to France. The wind was against them so they were making slow progress to wherever their destination might be. Josiah stopped beside him and offered him the rum. Porthos took the bottle and poured a healthy amount of the liquor down his throat.

"What happens now?" he asked, handing back the bottle.

"We sell our cargo."

"You have a buyer lined up?"

Josiah looked at him searchingly. "Naturally."

Porthos silently cursed his reticence. "You must be makin' a good livin' off those weapons. What happens if they stop tryin' to ship them across the Channel?"

The Captain shrugged. "There are always ships. Besides, there's another shipment next week so it looks like the King hasn't learnt his lesson yet."

That confirmed their suspicion that the innkeeper at La Belle Hellene was involved. Not that Porthos had harboured any doubts. He had been taken by the pirates too quickly after he'd made himself known to the innkeeper for it to be a coincidence.

"How long have you been a privateer?"

Josiah leaned back with his elbows resting on the rail. "It must be nearly three years. I sailed with the English navy until I got tired of taking orders and deserted. I signed on with the former Captain of the Black Swan."

"What happened to him?"

"He had an accident," Josiah said.

Porthos could imagine many ways in which that 'accident' could have occurred but kept his thoughts to himself. He looked up to the sky, where the sun had passed its zenith. "I'm hungry."

"There'll be food in the galley."

"What about the Musketeers? You plannin' on feedin' them?"

"What do you care?"

"Just concerned about our merchandise, that's all. They'll be of no use to us if they starve to death."

"Don't worry. We'll keep them in good health. When we get back to France I'll send a message to their Captain. Until the money arrives they can stay where they are."

Porthos knew that it was a forlorn hope that the King would ransom them. He had no doubt that Treville would try to raise the money but it would all depend upon the amount demanded. None of the Musketeers were wealthy men although each would give everything they owned to save their brothers.

"What happens if they won't pay?"

Josiah turned and looked out to sea. "We throw them overboard. They won't get far in chains."

Bile rose in Porthos' throat at the thought. He couldn't allow that to happen even if the odds of successfully rescuing them were slim. He watched the churning waves for a moment before turning away with a barely suppressed shudder.

"How long before we make harbor?"

"We'll be at sea for the next two days then rendezvous with our buyer after dark." Josiah slung an arm around Porthos' shoulders. "Tomorrow I'll hand over the ship to you. See what your seamanship skills are like."

Porthos swore silently while managing to dredge up a smile. "I don't want to intrude on your kingdom."

"It's no intrusion. If we're going to sail together I need to know what you can do."

Porthos had no option other than to nod and try to look pleased. He excused himself as soon as he could, indicating that he was going to get some food. He made straight for the hold only to find his way blocked by two seamen who were standing guard.

"The Captain told me to check on our prisoners," he said.

They stood aside without argument. He ducked through the low doorway and grabbed a lantern that was hanging just inside. The main hold was stacked with their booty but there was no sign of Athos, Aramis and d'Artagnan. He slowly turned round, holding the lantern up high. Then he saw a doorway with bolts across top and bottom. They slid back smoothly and he turned the handle. He found himself in a small room and let out a sigh of relief when he saw his brothers unharmed.

"It's about time," Aramis said. "We thought you had forgotten about us."

"What were you thinkin'?" Porthos burst out. "You were just askin' for trouble sailin' on that ship."

"We were there to protect the crew," Athos said. "By keeping the attention on us we managed to prevent any bloodshed." He smiled wryly. "Being captured was not part of the plan."

"Well, we've got bigger problems. I'm to be given command of the ship tomorrow."

"Ah. That is unfortunate. Then it appears we will have to escape tonight."

Porthos looked incredulously at Athos. "We're in the middle of the ocean. How do you propose that we should escape?"

"Do you trust me?" Athos asked, his gaze steady.

"You know I do."

"Then this is what we are going to do."

TMTMTM

After a very shaken Porthos had gone Aramis gave voice to his concerns. "You know we're unlikely to survive this?"

"The odds are not in our favour," Athos conceded. "Despite that, what choice do we have? Porthos' ruse will be discovered tomorrow when it becomes apparent that he has no idea how to sail the ship. That will remove our only leverage. He will either be killed or join us in this prison. Therefore, we can't afford to wait until we make harbor and, besides, I wouldn't blow up the ship anywhere close to other people and property. We have to execute the plan while we are at sea."

"Porthos can't swim," Aramis said softly.

"I know. It makes no difference. We either stay here and wait to be killed or we attempt an escape with all its attendant dangers."

"I saw two rowboats lashed to the ships side," d'Artagnan said.

"The chances of us being able to steal one are not good. If we're seen, we would be sitting ducks. You saw how many muskets they have. No, we only have one hope and that is to take to the water."

"It will be cold," Aramis warned. "And the weather hasn't been kind to us so far."

"You aren't telling me anything I don't already know. Don't you think I'd rather we had a different option?" He looked at each of them in turn. "We are Musketeers, sworn to uphold the law and protect the King. These privateers have broken the law and will continue to do so if we don't stop them. Our lives are a small price to pay."

"I always thought I'd die with a sword in my hand," Aramis said reflectively.

D'Artagnan rested his head against the wall, staring up at the planks of the ceiling. "I would have liked the chance to make things right with Constance."

"You talk as if our death is inevitable. How many times have we been in seemingly dire predicaments and yet have prevailed? Don't give up hope."

Aramis grasped his cross and bent his head, his lips moving soundlessly as he prayed. D'Artagnan closed his eyes and Athos was left in silence to second guess every decision he had made during the mission. Despite his encouraging words, he was no more hopeful than the others that they would survive.

Tbc


	8. Chapter 8

**The Cruel Sea**

 **Chapter Eight**

In the complete darkness of their prison it was hard to gauge the passage of time. They had discussed their escape plan in exhaustive detail and were now trying to rest in the knowledge that they had an appallingly difficult ordeal ahead of them. Athos had tried to quiet his mind by sheer will-power and had utterly failed. His body might seem relaxed but his thoughts were as tumultuous as the sea on which they sailed. It was almost a relief when he heard footsteps and the sound of the bolts being drawn back. Refusing to meet the potential threat sitting down he wearily pushed himself to his feet. From the noises coming from either side of him he knew Aramis and d'Artagnan were doing the same.

When the door opened all he could see was the lantern which was painfully bright after the all-encompassing blackness of their surroundings. He bowed his head, blinking rapidly to clear his watering eyes. He felt hands gripping his arms and instinctively tried to pull away

"Settle down."

The voice was close to his ear and he could smell the offensively bad breath of the speaker. He looked up to find that he had been flanked by two seamen while a third stood in the doorway pointing a pair of pistols at them.

"The Captain wants to see you."

His left arm was released and the sailor bent down to unlock the shackles around his ankles. Athos exchanged a concerned look with his friends before his stoic mask slipped back into place.

"Don't do anything foolish," Aramis murmured.

He was led towards the door and then out into the main hold of the ship. A quick glance around reassured him that everything they would need to make their escape was close at hand. He was prodded ungently in the direction of the stairs. When he emerged onto the deck he saw that the sun was setting and that there was no sign of land.

They reached a stout wooden door and one of the seamen knocked. There was no sound from inside but the man opened the door and pushed him through. The cabin wasn't large and Athos had the impression of a disorganized clutter of tables, chairs and sea chests. Piles of books occupied many of the surfaces. As he was hustled forward he caught a glimpse of a copy of De Augmentis Scientiarum written by Francis Bacon. To find such a work in the cabin of a privateer was unexpected and Athos mentally adjusted his perception of the man he was about to confront. This was no uneducated criminal whose only concern was stealing other people's goods.

The Captain was standing looking out the windows, his hands folded neatly behind his back. He turned unhurriedly, his gaze meeting Athos questioning stare. "Leave us," he ordered.

Athos stood to attention and waited. The silence stretched on for a long time before the Captain laughed and took a seat behind his desk.

"You have patience. I like that. What's your name?"

He could see no harm in answering. "Athos."

"That's all? No surname?"

"It's all you need to know."

"I see your situation hasn't dampened the famed Musketeer arrogance. The best of the best I am told. Bodyguards to the Royal family. It's what every soldier dreams of becoming."

Athos let out a longsuffering sigh. "Is there a point to this?"

The Captain leaned forward and studied him. "How important are you and your companions to the King?"

"What answer are you looking for? If I say we are of no importance you will order your men to slit our throats. On the other hand, if I tell you we are indispensable you will set our ransom at an unrealistically high figure."

"I might decide you're too much trouble and kill you anyway."

"You might but I don't think you're a man who would throw away the chance of profit."

The Captain acknowledged that with a brief nod and a lop-sided grin. "You will write a letter to your commanding officer…"

"No."

A raised eyebrow greeted that flat denial. "I see. Then we will just have to send him proof that we hold you prisoner." He stood up and approached Athos. "He will recognise this?" He touched the pauldron.

Athos involuntarily flinched. The thought of parting with this tangible mark of his profession was abhorrent to him.

"I see it's important to you so you can keep it until I am ready to send my message. It will be several days until we return to France so I suggest you make yourselves comfortable. And, pray that your commander thinks highly enough of you to pay what is demanded of him."

TMTMTM

There was very little privacy on a ship. Porthos had been given a cabin with five other men, including Billy Robbins, the first mate. The little man continued to eye him suspiciously and hadn't said a gracious word to him since he had joined the crew. When they settled down for the night Porthos was the first to close his eyes. His entire body was strung as tightly as a piano wire while he contemplated the sequence of events that Athos had laid out for him. He wasn't a fearful man but a shudder ran the entire length of his body at the thought of leaping from the ship into the icy waters. His three brothers had assured him that they wouldn't let him drown but there was so much that could go wrong.

The candles burnt themselves out. Soon snores and indecipherable murmurs were all that could be heard. Porthos waited impatiently. It would be disastrous if he were to move too soon but the waiting was hard. Eventually he decided that enough time had passed for everyone to be asleep. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The bed frame creaked and he froze in the act of feeling around for his boots. His heart was pounding and his mouth was dry as he waited to see if anyone would react to the sound. When there was no challenge he slipped his feet into his boots and stood up. His bed was the closest to the door so he didn't have far to travel. He took hold of the handle and slid the door open. He quickly looked right and left. To his immense relief no-one else was prowling the hallway. He stepped out, closing the door behind him.

He'd taken the opportunity during the day to explore every inch of the ship so he set out confidently towards his destination. There was only one man left to guard the hold and the helpless prisoners during the night. He wouldn't be a problem. It would take time to pick the locks on his brothers' shackles and then they had to set the charges that would destroy the ship. All that had to be accomplished before first light if they were to have any chance of escaping.

"Where are you going?"

Porthos' steps faltered. He recognised the voice and it belonged to a man who had no cause to either like or trust him. He turned to confront the first mate. "What's it to you?" He took a few steps back the way he'd come. If Robbins chose to call out he'd be overwhelmed before he could move.

"It looks mighty suspicious you sneaking around in the middle of the night." There was a knife in Robbins' right hand, the steel glittering in the light from the lanterns.

"I'm just goin' to relieve myself," Porthos said, shuffling forward another couple of feet.

"Then you're going the wrong way."

"Must have got turned around then." He closed the distance between them rapidly. His right hand closed around Billy's wrist to prevent him using the knife. He used the weight of his body to propel them both back against the bulkhead and slapped his left hand over Billy's mouth to stop him from calling for assistance. Porthos was younger and stronger so it didn't matter how hard his captive fought. He gave a vicious twist to the wrist and the knife clattered to the floor. In one quick move he gripped both sides of Billy's head and turned it sharply to the left. There was a crack and Billy went completely limp. Porthos held his dead weight and took a couple of deep breaths. He knew that he had to hide the body. There was a storage cupboard just around the corner. After checking that his way was clear he secreted the corpse. There should be no reason for anyone to open the cupboard during the night so he was fairly confident that the body wouldn't be found.

He resumed his interrupted journey, drawing his knife as he neared the entrance to the hold. The sailor guarding it looked to be no more than eighteen and Porthos felt a qualm of conscience. Then he remembered that they were going to blow up the ship which would result in massive casualties. That thought didn't sit well with him either even though he knew the punishment for piracy was death. He could understand Athos' reasoning though and knew they had to take the opportunity that had been presented to them.

Porthos walked confidently along the hallway, the knife held behind his back. His friendly smile disarmed the young sailor and allowed him to get within striking distance. His knife slid between the pirate's ribs and into his heart. There was a pained gasp and then utter silence. The way was now clear. It took mere seconds to pull the body through the doorway and down the stairs. Porthos then returned to the deck and grabbed a lantern. It was time to free his brothers.

TMTMTM

Aramis was dozing when he heard the door open. He scrambled to his feet. He had no difficulty identifying the silhouette of the man standing in the doorway. "Porthos."

Porthos crossed the small room and pulled out his lock picks. "Who's first?"

Athos held out his arms. "Did you encounter any difficulty?" The first lock sprung open.

"Nothin' I couldn't handle." Once Athos' hands were free Porthos bent down to attack the ankle chains.

As soon as his restraints were removed Athos disappeared into the main hold. Aramis was next, then d'Artagnan. Soon they were all congregated around the horde of weaponry.

"We need to set off explosions at both ends of the ship," Athos said. "Aramis, you and Porthos stack up barrels of gunpowder in the stern. D'Artagnan, you're with me."

Aramis picked up two of the barrels and stacked them against the bulkhead. "What was it like being a pirate?" he asked.

Porthos grunted. "Can't say I've taken much to sailin'. I'd rather be on dry land. All this tossin' and turnin' has upset my stomach."

"At least you weren't sick." Aramis stopped and looked at him. "You weren't, were you?"

"Nah. Don't reckon they'd have believed I was a sailor if I had been."

"It certainly would have stretched the imagination."

Athos brought over a reel of fusewire. "We need two minutes to get off the ship. If we're too close to it when it explodes we risk being caught in the blast."

"Understood." Aramis secured one end of the fuse to a barrel at the bottom of the pile and then walked backwards, unrolling it as he went. "Can I borrow your knife?" he asked Porthos. He cut it to the correct length before handing the knife to d'Artagnan.

"Go," Athos said. "I'll light the fuses and be right behind you."

"I'll stay," d'Artagnan said.

"No. Aramis will need your help with Porthos once you get into the water. Trust me, d'Artagnan. I'm not feeling suicidal."

The young man studied his mentor and then nodded.

Aramis unfastened his sash and held one end out to Porthos. "When we jump keep tight hold of this. It will stop us getting separated. When you hit the water try to relax. If you fight me neither of us will survive the experience."

They hurried up the stairs to the lower deck, dashed down the hallway and climbed the stairs leading to the main deck. At the top they hesitated.

"Ready?" Aramis asked.

Porthos straightened his shoulders and gave a curt nod. He had wrapped the sash around his hand and was clinging to it like a lifeline. Aramis took a deep breath and tightened his own grip on the sash.

As they sprinted across the deck Aramis heard a shout. He reached the rail, took another deep breath and vaulted over with Porthos by his side. He hit the water hard, the cold sending shockwaves through his body. As the sea closed over his head he prayed that Porthos would heed his warning because he had no intention of watching his brother drown.

Tbc


	9. Chapter 9

This is a bonus chapter because I am feeling kind. Not that you will like where it ends. This story will be over soon and I have run out of ideas. If anyone has any story suggestions I would love to hear them.

 **The Cruel Sea**

 **Chapter Nine**

Athos opened the lantern and carefully lifted out the candle. He bent down and touched the flame to the first of the fuses. The fire took hold and began slowly to traverse the space leading to the stack of barrels. With quick strides Athos moved to the other end of the hold and repeated the process with the second fuse. In the gloom, the red and yellow flickering light almost seemed to presage the entrance to hell and a chill ran down his spine. He waited until he was sure the fire had taken hold before turning away. He blew out the candle and headed for the stairs.

"What's going on?"

The voice came from above him and he realised someone was standing at the top of the stairs. He clung to the shadows, hoping the man would come down to investigate instead of raising the alarm. He took a moment to mentally berate himself for failing to ask Porthos for one of his weapons. His only chance now was to launch a surprise attack. There were hurried footsteps on the stairs and a blur of movement. Athos leapt, swinging his right arm in the direction of the man's face. At least that was his intent but in the darkness everything was deceiving to the eye.

His fist grazed the side of the pirate's face without doing any significant harm. He slowed his forward momentum, crouched and pivoted, bringing his left leg round in a sweeping motion. There was a grunt of pain and he heard his opponent fall to the ground. His eyes were adjusting now to the darkness and he could make out the shape of a body sprawled on the deck. He threw himself forward and began to rain blows down on the prostrate man.

"Are you mad?" the man gasped. "The ship is going to explode."

"That's the idea."

Having overcome his initial surprise, the man began to fight back. Athos took a solid blow to the cheek which knocked him off balance. He then found he was the one at a disadvantage, lying flat on his back. He bent his leg and raised his knee, burying it in the pirate's gut. There was a gasp and a forceful exhalation of air. Athos sprang to his feet, arms swinging. A combination of right and left punches to the face drove the man to his knees. Being painfully aware that he was running out of time, he drove a forceful blow to the point of the chin. The man's head snapped back and he ungracefully fell to the ground. Athos stood, breathing deeply. In one quick movement he grasped the pirate's knife and used it to mercilessly. He could not afford for his victim to wake up and disconnect the fuses.

With a final glance at the stately progress of the flames, he headed for the stairs. He climbed to the lower deck and hurried to the ladder that would lead him out of the belly of the ship. When he emerged onto the main deck he saw that the men on watch were congregated around the rail staring into the water. He heard two shots and prayed that neither had hit its intended target. He ran to the opposite rail and executed a less than perfect dive into the water.

TMTMTM

Aramis surfaced to find Porthos floundering in the water beside him. He couldn't clearly see the expression on his friend's face but would bet that it was one of uncontrollable panic. He maneuvered himself behind Porthos and gripped him under both arms. He coughed to clear the water from his lungs.

"I need you to relax. Lie back. I'll support you."

Porthos continued to flail around, causing the water to splash up and threaten to overwhelm both of them. Aramis tightened his grip. He choked when a wave slapped him in the face and water went up his nose. There was a splashing noise behind him and d'Artagnan came into view.

"Porthos. Listen to me," he rasped. "If you don't settle down you'll drown both of us."

The body under his hands tensed and then, to his relief, Porthos stopped struggling. Aramis began to kick to propel them away from the ship while d'Artagnan kept pace with them. There was the sound of firing but, fortunately, neither ball struck flesh.

"Have you seen Athos?" d'Artagnan asked, his breathing uneven.

"No. Can you take Porthos' left arm? We'll make better headway if we're both supporting him."

He looked back towards the ship which wasn't receding as quickly as he would have liked. There was no sign of anyone else in the water and his concern ratchetted up. If Athos didn't get off soon, he would go down with the ship and that wasn't an outcome he was prepared to accept. Seconds later there was a loud explosion and the sea rose up in a solid wall of water.

"Take a breath," he said, before bracing himself for the impact.

They were driven deep underwater and he struggled to keep hold of Porthos. He could imagine the terror his friend was feeling and, truthfully, he wasn't doing a great deal better. Their downward descent seemed to last a very long time and he began to get lightheaded. As the sea settled above them, Aramis used the strength of his legs to propel them upwards. When they surfaced again all three of them were coughing and spluttering. All around them lay the debris from the explosion, including bodies, some intact and some not. There was no sign of anyone still alive. Aramis felt the bile rise in his throat.

The ship was in its death throes, the bow pointed downwards and the stern rising into the air. As he watched it slipped with tragic grace beneath the waves to become nothing more than another skeleton on the bottom of the ocean.

The moon emerged from behind a bank of clouds and lit the nightmarish scene with a soft silvery glow. Aramis shivered. His fingers were going numb and all the warmth had been leeched from his body. How much longer before his strength deserted him? Before that happened he had to save Porthos. He began to look around, finally spotting a large section of the hull floating about fifty feet away.

"Over there." He and d'Artagnan both began to swim towards it, towing Porthos between them. Once they reached the makeshift raft Aramis leaned over to gather Porthos' attention. "You need to climb onto it. We'll help you."

Porthos nodded and took hold of the edge of the wood. He hauled himself up while Aramis and d'Artagnan gripped his legs and lifted. It was difficult and ungainly and took a significant portion of Aramis' waning strength.

Once Porthos was safely positioned the big man held out his hand. "Now you."

Aramis shook his head. "Too much of a risk. We can't afford for it to upend. We'll be fine in the water." He held onto the wood with one hand while d'Artagnan swam around to the other side. He reflected that he really was very cold.

"I'm going to find Athos," d'Artagnan said.

"We should stick together," Aramis protested, even though he was just as eager to search for their missing brother.

"I'm not leaving him on his own." D'Artagnan's adamant tone showed the futility of arguing with him. "You stay here with Porthos. I'll find him and bring him back."

Aramis could only acquiesce. With a heavy heart he watched as d'Artagnan swam away from them.

TMTMTM

D'Artagnan was tired. The frigid water had chilled him to the bone and every stroke he made was an effort of will. As he got closer to the place where the ship had sunk he came across more and more bodies. He forced himself to check each one, never finding the man he was seeking. He widened his search pattern, wishing he had the strength to call out Athos' name. Eventually he came upon a scattered handful of survivors and those he kept well away from. However, they all seemed totally occupied in preserving their own lives and none made a threatening move in his direction.

He continued to swim. Ahead of him was a body lying face down. He saw the unmistakable pauldron and a surge of energy infused his limbs. He reached Athos and turned him over. Dark hair floated around a face which was ashen and still. In the shifting waves d'Artagnan couldn't tell if his brother was still breathing.

"Athos. Athos. Can you hear me?"

He patted one pale cheek but there was no reaction. He tried to feel for a pulse, being defeated by the lack of feeling in his hands. Despite the rational part of his brain telling him that it was too late, he couldn't give up. He drew back his hand and slapped Athos hard across the face. Nothing happened. With a sob, he drew his friend and mentor close and closed his eyes in despair.

Tbc


	10. Chapter 10

The Cruel Sea

Chapter Ten

Athos took a great gulping breath of air and began to cough. He could feel a constriction around his chest which bordered on being painful. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't suppress the hacking cough that racked his body. A mixture of water and bile rushed up his throat. He turned his head to the side and spewed it out. More followed and then more until he thought it would never end. The pain in his chest increased as his abdominal muscles grew weaker and weaker.

There was a voice in his ear murmuring encouragement and he realised there were arms around him, supporting him in his misery. As memory returned he began to move his own legs under the water to keep himself afloat. He recognised the voice now and gave thanks that d'Artagnan had come looking for him. He opened his eyes. The worry on d'Artagnan's face immediately changed into a broad grin.

"I thought you were dead."

It was a challenge to speak. Athos' throat felt raw and tender and his lungs hurt. "I would have been if not for you," he managed to gasp out.

"Are you injured? You were face down in the water when I found you."

Athos thought about that. He remembered diving from the ship and starting to swim. There had been an explosion which knocked the breath out of him and which propelled him inelegantly through the water. He reached up to touch the back of his head, finding a tender lump. "I think some of the debris hit me. I remember swimming for a while and then everything went black." He moved his arms and an immediate spike of pain travelled up his left arm, causing spots to dance across his vision. Fortunately, d'Artagnan still had hold of him because for a moment he forgot where he was.

"Athos!"

"I think I have a broken arm."

"Don't try to move it. Just hold onto me. Let me do all the work."

They were both trembling uncontrollably and Athos could see a blue tinge to d'Artagnan's lips and a lack of any other colour in his face. If they weren't rescued soon both of them would succumb to hypothermia. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"My plan…it's my fault we're stuck out here."

"We all agreed to go along with it. You have nothing to reproach yourself for."

Athos wasn't so sure about that but he didn't have the energy to argue. "Aramis? Porthos?"

"They're alright. We managed to get Porthos onto a piece of the hull. Aramis is with him."

It was some consolation to know that his brothers had survived. "I was worried about Porthos," he admitted.

"It was difficult for him. He panicked when he first hit the water and I thought we were going to lose him."

"He's one of the bravest men I know. Not many would have trusted us enough to do what he did."

They lapsed into silence. Athos did what he could to lessen the burden on d'Artagnan. He knew the young man must be exhausted. His own strength was waning fast and still the waves kept buffeting them. The wind had risen, driving clouds across the face of the moon. It began to rain. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so despondent. Their lives could be measured in minutes rather than hours and he knew it was only a matter of time before the lure of the depths would become too great to ignore.

TMTMTM

Aramis tightened his failing grip on the edge of the wood. The temptation to let go, to give up the fight, was almost overwhelming. The only thing encouraging him to persevere was his refusal to leave Porthos alone and vulnerable.

"D'you think d'Artagnan found him?"

"We can only hope so, my friend." Every muscle in his body was contracting uncontrollably. He couldn't feel his feet and the numbness seemed to be creeping up his body. His grip began to loosen. The wood suddenly rocked violently and a hand closed around his right wrist.

"None of that," Porthos said. "You don't get to let go."

Aramis drew in a shuddering breath. "You shouldn't move. You don't want to capsize."

"I'm goin' to pull you up."

"No!" Aramis began to struggle weakly against Porthos' grip.

"Give me your other hand."

"There isn't enough space."

"Stop arguin' with me."

Despite his efforts Porthos captured his left hand and heaved. His torso flopped onto the wood, leaving his legs dangling in the water. The makeshift raft dipped down before settling again. It was no warmer out of the water than in it. A cold north wind and rain assaulted him without mercy.

"Climb up," Porthos ordered.

By wriggling like a fish Aramis managed to get more than half his body onto the raft. He drew up his right knee while his fingers scrabbled for purchase on the wood. Porthos grip never wavered, inexorably drawing him towards a precarious measure of safety. He lay on his stomach for a minute while he tried to gather the strength to turn over and sit up. His heart was hammering wildly and he was feeling light-headed. He recognised the symptoms. Soon his pulse would slow down, the shivering would stop and he would gradually slip into unconsciousness. Already he was weak and uncoordinated. with the simple act of sitting up being almost beyond him.

With Porthos' help he managed to get upright. When he tried to express his thanks his words came out as a barely heard mumble. They huddled together and waited either for rescue or for death to claim them.

TMTMTM

Athos had stopped shivering and that told him that the end was very near. D'Artagnan's pallor had increased and his skin now had a waxy sheen to it. Speech was impossible and his thoughts were sluggish. He had spent years self-destructing, uncaring if he lived or died. Yet, he had never imagined that this was how it would end. It was a source of sorrow that his brothers would perish with him. At the same time, he was grateful not to be alone. It wasn't that he feared death but rather it was a belief that no-one should die alone. There should be someone there to mark his passing. He wished that he had Aramis' strongly held faith that something better was waiting for him on the other side but he had long since stopped believing in God and the afterlife.

He could feel d'Artagnan's grip loosening and looked towards the horizon, hoping that he would see the sun rise for one final time. The sky wasn't as dark now and, just at the edge of his vision, there was a pinprick of light. He watched it, fascinated. It was growing closer and he tried to interpret what that meant. Gradually, a shape emerged from out of the gloom and his heart gave a painful thud. He turned his head to look at d'Artagnan. The young man's eyes were almost closed and his breathing had slowed. Athos could tell that he was on the verge of giving up.

"A ship." It came out as a croaking whisper which failed to reach d'Artagnan's ears. He tried again. "A ship."

There was the slightest stirring of interest and d'Artagnan forced his eyes open. Athos used his good arm to turn them so that d'Artagnan was looking towards the east and their salvation.

Tbc


	11. Chapter 11

**The Cruel Sea**

 **Chapter Eleven**

The ship lowered its two rowboats and they began to meander their way through the wreckage. D'Artagnan raised an arm into the air and waved frantically. The nearest boat stopped to pick up a couple of survivors before heading in their direction. Athos by this stage was incapable of doing more than treading water. From somewhere deep within d'Artagnan found the strength to propel them towards the boat. Athos wasn't aware of boarding it or the ship. When the sailors reached down to help him they grasped both of his arms. His broken arm immediately sent a surge of pain through his body. That, coupled with exhaustion, was enough to send him into deep unconsciousness.

He awoke some indeterminate time later to the realization that he was lying down and that he wasn't as cold as he had been previously. His wet clothes were gone and he was wrapped in several blankets. There was heat coming from somewhere in the general direction of his feet. He attempted to sit up and then subsided with a groan.

"Are you back with us?" Aramis asked. He moved into Athos' field of vision. The marksman was pale with black smudges under his eyes but he looked marginally better than Athos felt.

"D'Artagnan? Porthos?" His head pounded. His chest and left arm ached. He was still shivering gently within his cocoon.

"Both here and safe. How do you feel?"

There was little point in trying to deny his condition. "Sore."

"I'm not surprised. You have a spectacular bump on the back of the head and your arm is broken just above the wrist."

"Aramis insisted upon bein' the one to tend to you even though he was shaking so hard he couldn't keep his hand steady." Porthos arrived at the other side of the bed and grinned tiredly. "It's lucky you weren't awake."

He wasn't surprised that his friend had put his own welfare to one side. Aramis would always look after one of them regardless of his own hurts. Some days he was annoyed by that. Today he was just thankful. "Help me to sit up."

He clutched the blankets with his right hand as his friends carefully maneuvered him into an upright position. That was when he got his first glimpse of d'Artagnan who was sitting on a stool close to a brazier. The heat had brought some colour back to the young man's cheeks and the dull despair had left his eyes. "I owe you my life," Athos said.

"You'd have done the same for me," d'Artagnan said.

"If you hadn't come to look for me…" His words trailed off as it hit him just how close he had come to dying. He cleared his throat which had become uncomfortably clogged with emotion. "How many others survived?"

"Eight, including the Captain." Aramis perched on the edge of the bed, looking exhausted. "They are being tended to but we persuaded the Captain of this ship to put them under guard. We are on a Flemish merchant vessel heading for St. Valery-en-Caux. Apparently, that is about fifty miles east of Le Havre. We were only about twenty miles off the French shore when they found us."

"How did they find us?"

"It was a very big explosion," d'Artagnan said. "It lit up the sky for miles around. They came to investigate."

"It's just as well they did. Aramis was on the verge of losing consciousness when they turned up." Porthos shrugged in response to the irritated look aimed at him by Aramis.

"You weren't in much better shape."

"I wasn't in the water as long as you were."

"The cook's making a large batch of soup," d'Artagnan said hurriedly. They all knew how long Aramis and Porthos could bicker if given the opportunity. "Now that you're awake I'll go and see if I can get us some food." He stood up, his blankets wrapped securely around his body. "It'll be some time before our clothes have dried enough to be wearable but they might have some spare shirts and trousers we can borrow."

"Are you in a lot of pain?" Aramis asked once d'Artagnan had left the cabin.

"Nothing I can't handle." He closed his eyes, tired beyond measure. It would have been bad enough to be suffering from the after effects of being in the freezing water without the added trauma of his wounds. Still, they were alive and that was all that mattered.

"There is no physician aboard and few medical supplies. This was just supposed to be a short journey for them. I'm sure we can find someone to look at your arm once we dock."

"That won't be necessary." He pried his eyes open and tried to look energized. It was a lost cause. He drew in a shuddering breath and forced himself to continue. "We'll leave the prisoners in the charge of the local authorities. Treville can send a detachment to bring them back to Paris. We will return to Le Havre, arrest the innkeeper and then head home. Did you find out where the weapons were being sold?" He looked at Porthos.

"The buyer's in England so at least we don't need to worry about them being used on French soil. That's all I could find out. We should try interrogating the Captain and the rest of the survivors. I'm sure the King would like to send word to his brother-in-law to warn him."

"How long before we land?"

"A few hours only," Aramis said. "I doubt that, in the meantime, any of us is in a fit state to question the prisoners."

"Porthos is right, although I agree we make a sorry sight. We're hardly likely to inspire fear in the pirates." He was aware that the remaining pirates had also been through a traumatic experience and common humanity required him to let them recover in peace. "The interrogation must wait." Athos slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed. The movement made his vision contract for a second and he could feel his head reeling. A hand steadied him until he found his equilibrium. Once he was sure that he wouldn't fall over he stood up and staggered over to the fire. He sat down with a blissful sigh.

"It will take some time for the cold to leave our bodies," Aramis said, joining him and holding his hands out towards the flames. "That is as well, however. It is dangerous to warm someone up too quickly when they are suffering from hypothermia."

Athos wriggled his toes. That was where he was feeling the cold the most and he wondered if he would ever truly feel warm again. He looked up in response to the door opening. D'Artagnan had an arm full of white clothing and he was followed by a sailor carrying a tray with four mugs and a platter of bread and cheese. Steam and an appealing odour emanated from the mugs. D'Artagnan handed out the soup, thanked the sailor and joined them around the fire.

The sensation of hot soup trickling down his throat was quite possibly the most pleasurable thing he had experienced in a long time. Aramis cut him some bread, mindful of the difficulty of eating with one hand. He nodded his thanks. They ate in silence, content to enjoy the fact that all had survived and been reunited.

Once they had finished, and despite being bone weary, Athos stood up. "Can someone help me to dress? I should go and speak to the Captain."

Aramis gave him an incredulous look. "You should be in bed."

"Later." He reached for one of the shirts.

"I forbid it," Aramis said. "You can't go wandering around the ship in your present condition. I don't think you realise how seriously you were hurt. You were unconscious for the better part of two hours."

"Two hours?" He looked at Aramis in surprise.

"Yes. You are concussed and you have a broken arm, not to mention the after effects of your immersion in ice cold water. None of us has escaped unscathed. My advice is we all try to get some sleep. You can talk to the Captain once we arrive in port."

The idea of bed was appealing. His headache was worsening and he had started to tremble again. "I suppose you are right. There's nothing we can do until we reach land anyway." He stood up, swayed precariously, and returned to his bed. His eyes drifted shut as soon as he lay down and he fell into instant slumber.

Tbc


	12. Chapter 12

This is the final chapter. Thank you to everyone who sent reviews, particularly the guest reviewers who I couldn't thank personally. I hope you have enjoyed this seafaring tale and that you will continue to follow future stories.

 **The Cruel Sea**

 **Chapter Twelve**

Aramis was the first to waken. Although he still felt a chill in his feet the rest of his body was blissfully warm. He burrowed deeper into the blankets, luxuriating in the feeling of heat. His time in the ocean was receding into a blurred memory of frigid water and an alarming fear that he was going to die. The specifics were hazy. He had no idea how long they had been in the water. He only vaguely remembered Porthos hauling him up onto the wrecked section of the hull. What he did know with absolute clarity was that Porthos had saved his life despite his own fear of the water. Aramis marveled at the courage it must have taken for Porthos to jump off the ship, trusting that neither he nor d'Artagnan would let him drown. It had been a leap of faith in every possible sense.

He turned his head to look at Athos. There were lines of pain marring the swordsman's forehead and bracketing his mouth. That was enough to drive him from his comfortable nest. He sorted through the clothes d'Artagnan had found, selecting a shirt and loose white trousers. His boots had still not dried out completely so he left his feet bare. Before leaving the cabin, he threw another log on the fire in the brazier to ward off the dampness in the air.

When he arrived on deck he found that the sky had cleared, the sun was shining and that they were in port. He stood for a moment in the midst of the controlled chaos as the crew scrambled to unload their cargo. He listened to their cheerful voices intermingled with the raucous cries of the seagulls. The Captain was still on the bridge. He was a cheerful man, who had brushed off their protestations of gratitude with a humble good humour.

Aramis made his way up the short ladder. "Captain Vermeulen. My friend is in a lot of pain from his broken arm. Would it be possible to send to an apothecary for medicine to relieve him?"

"That isn't a problem. Tell me what you need."

"I will write a list." Aramis looked at the Captain with something close to embarrassment. "We don't have any money but, if you will provide me with an address, I will see that you are reimbursed for your kindness."

"No need to worry about that."

"Nevertheless, I will see it done. How long will you be in port?"

"We leave on the morning tide tomorrow. What are your plans?"

"We need to get back to Le Havre and I am reluctant to ride given Athos' injury."

"I will make enquiries. I'm sure we will be able to find a vessel to take you."

"Thank you."

"What do you want me to do with the prisoners?"

"Hand them over to the authorities. They can be kept in custody here until we can send a troop of Musketeers to escort them back to Paris."

"Leave everything to me."

It was impossible to put his gratitude into words so he shook the Captain's hand and left him to hand out the orders to his men. When he arrived back in the cabin he pulled pen and paper towards him and quickly wrote out a list of the herbs he would need. He handed the paper to a passing seaman with instructions to take it to the Captain. By that time his brothers were stirring. Athos let out an involuntary moan when he changed position. Aramis immediately went to his side.

"Rest. I have sent for medicine that will help alleviate the pain."

Athos attempted to sit up. "There is much to do."

"And it is all in hand. The Captain will deliver the remaining pirates to the local jail and is making enquiries to find a ship to take us to Le Havre. Until he does, there is nothing for you to do but stay warm. How does your head feel?"

"The pain is less."

"Good. That would suggest it wasn't a severe concussion which is fortunate."

Porthos had got out of bed and was checking the state of his uniform. "It's almost dry."

"Have we reached land?" d'Artagnan asked. He pulled on one of their borrowed shirts.

"Yes."

"Good because I've had enough of water to last me a lifetime," Porthos grumbled. "Wonder if they've got any ale. I've a mighty thirst." He began to dress in his own clothes, only shivering slightly when his skin came into contact with the lingering dampness. Once he was clothed he left the cabin in search of something to quench his thirst.

Athos, obedient for once, stayed where he was. Aramis could tell by the pursed line of his mouth that he was in a lot of pain. "I would suggest that you stay in Le Havre until the break starts to mend but I suspect it would be a waste of breath."

"I have ridden with broken bones before," Athos said.

Aramis conceded the truth of that statement although it didn't make him any less concerned. "You risk the bones coming out of alignment."

"I will take that chance. It is only a three day journey."

"There is no urgency now, surely," d'Artagnan said. "After all, the ship is destroyed, most of the privateers are dead and those that did survive are all under arrest."

"Treville is expecting our report," Athos responded with his innate stubbornness.

"We can send him a message. A few day's rest will do none of us any harm," Aramis said decisively.

"Two days. No more. We have been away from our posts for long enough."

"You, my friend, will be off duty until your injury heals."

"We'll see about that,' Athos muttered. "It's not as if it's my sword arm."

Aramis sighed, sensing a battle ahead of him. "We can debate that when we get home."

A very cheerful Porthos returned carrying four tankards and two flasks of ale. He poured it while d'Artagnan helped Athos to sit up. After distributing the tankards Porthos held his up.

"To survival and a job well done."

The sentiment was echoes by the others. Their ordeal was over. It was time to wrap up their investigation and go home.

TMTMTM

Two days later the four Musketeers stood outside La Belle Helene in Le Havre. Thanks to a loan of money from Captain Vermeulen they were all armed with swords and main gauche. Porthos once again wore his pauldron. Athos, his arm in a sling, was stoically ignoring his injury.

"I think Porthos deserves the honour of arresting our duplicitous innkeeper," Athos said.

"It'll be my pleasure," Porthos growled. "Aramis, you want to come along?"

"I wouldn't miss it."

They entered the tavern which, as usual, was doing good business. Porthos, his face set in a fearsome scowl pushed his way through without any consideration for the welfare of the patrons. Benoit was behind the bar, engaged in conversation with two customers. Porthos slammed his hand down on the wood.

The innkeeper looked over, his mouth open to deliver a rebuke. When he saw Porthos and Aramis and noted their uniforms his face paled.

"You weren't expecting us, were you?" Porthos said.

"You…you're a Musketeer?" Benoit stuttered.

"That's right, and you're under arrest for piracy and murder."

All conversation around them was dying as the patrons looked curiously at the scene before them.

"You've got no proof," Benoit blustered. His eyes were darting from side to side as he tried to see a way out of his predicament.

"You're wrong about that," Aramis said pleasantly. "You see, the false information I gave you about the next shipment found its way to the Captain of the privateers. Also, you alerted them to the fact that my friend here was looking for a berth. Your guilt is undeniable."

With a turn of speed born of sheer desperation Benoit sprinted towards the back door of the inn.

"Don't you just hate when they do that," Porthos said, not in the least disturbed.

"He'll find out soon enough that it was a wasted effort." Aramis walked around the end of the bar and followed Benoit at a leisurely pace.

The innkeeper hadn't made it more than ten feet before he ran into d'Artagnan. The young man now held his arm in a bruising grip while Athos stood to one side and watched.

"Predictable," Athos said.

"Stop squirming." D'Artagnan shook the innkeeper hard and the man subsided.

"Do you want to know what happened to your pirate friends?" Aramis asked. "Their ship exploded. There weren't many of them who made it out alive."

"I had nothing to do with the attacks," Benoit protested. "You can't pin any murders on me."

"Save your pleas of innocence for the judge," Athos said. "Well, gentlemen, our horses await. It's time to return to Paris." The mission hadn't gone entirely as planned and Treville was bound to have his own views of their recklessness. Despite the dressing down that awaited them Athos felt a sense of satisfaction. They had disposed of the problem in their own inimitable way and all were going home to tell the tale.

"I think it's time you learned to swim," Aramis said as they walked down the street towards the stables.

"You're not gettin' me in water again anytime soon. And, I'd be happy never to set foot on a ship again."

"Oh, I don't know. I think you made a splendid pirate." Aramis grinned. "If you ever tire of soldiering you could make another career for yourself."

"Are you completely out of your mind?" Porthos asked.

"After dealing with you all these years that's a distinct possibility."

Athos shook his head as the two men continued to bicker. Yet he would have it no other way. He exchanged a brief smile with d'Artagnan. Once again the young man had proved his courage and his worth as a Musketeer. Fortune had smiled on him when bringing these three into his life. There might be demons lurking in his past but his future looked bright. He led the way, his heart light. Their sea-borne adventure was over and it was time to go home.

The End.


End file.
